Tuesday night. Emerging from the tube, I pull out my phone. A new message from a new match. I tap the icon and read:
Good day. Good day?
It takes me a moment to process and another moment to laugh. This is already the most promising Tinder interaction of 2016.
As the conversation goes on I realise something incredible: that here is a man who writes longer messages than I do. I’m half-tempted to send Adrien screenshots for all the stick he gives me at work for being verbose. Sam too for that matter: he once told me he only reads the ends of my texts.
Saturday, my new correspondent sends through his standard essay. Halfway down:
I’m not so familiar with Tinder etiquette and I’m not sure if we are supposed to exchange X number of messages or words or inches of text first…
If we are, then I think it’s safe to say the threshold has been crossed.
… but I find it very interesting and pleasant talking to you and I have an inkling that we would enjoy chatting in person…’
He asked me out. In a nutshell.